University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter Omphales to Ammon.
Ammon.
Welcome from Athens! this good Morning's Hopes
Have brought you early to your Happiness.
[Embracing him.
No longer be the promis'd Bliss delay'd!
May every Omen now propitious prove,
And every Joy that Hymen can bestow
Reward Omphales Truth!

Omphales.
Thou'rt ever kind!

Ammon.
So be the Fair you love!

Omphales.
Possess'd of her.
Not Jealousy it self might doubt my Bliss.
O Ammon, she was made without Allay!
Perfection's fairest Pattern!

Ammon.
So compleat,
That you alone are worthy of the Maid.
All Greece shall joy to see Omphales blest:
Unenvy'd you shall call that Beauty yours,
Her Wealth, this happy Mansion too, your own,
This lov'd Retreat, which proudly from its Height
Looks down on Athens as it wou'd contemn
The busy Croud, and frown on the vain World:
Is, and is not of Athens.

Omphales.
O, my Friend!
Name not those Trifles with Hesione!
From Beggary, and Want! e'en from the Chains
Of Slav'ry I had ta'en her to my Arms,
And glory'd in her Smiles! when thou art told,
I doat with Fondness never known before;
Am dead to all Delights but those she gives,
Her Arms my World, Her Bosom my Retreat;
Yet think me Just! it shall be strange, indeed,
When thou'rt forgot! were Fortune in my Pow'r,
Thou shoud'st outshine thy glorious Ancestors.
Had'st thou Ambition, it might serve thee now:
War threatens us; (but thou'rt a Slave to Ease)
War is at hand, and calls our Youth to Glory.

Ammon.
I thought the World at Peace: th' Athenian Arms
Hang idly up, and rust within our Temples.
Whence is this Storm?

Omphales.
It blows from Persia.
Th' Invaders, like a Deluge, come upon us,
Exulting in their Barb'rous Multitude,
And pompous War. It is not yet abroad:
This Morning will unsold it to the State.

Ammon.
Zimon will head our Pow'rs.

Omphales.
Most certainly:
His Name's a Terror to the Persian.
Thrice has the daring Chief o'erthrown the Foe.
O, cou'd he but as well himself subdue;
His only Error! turn but from that Side,
And thou may'st look with Wonder at the Man!
By Heav'ns, it galls my Heart, when I behold
These Prophets lord it o'er a gen'rous Spirit!
I tremble at their Pow'r! our common Cause,
The Fate of Greece it self is in their Hands!
Under their Omens we go forth to War,
And with their Omens sheath the Sword in Peace;
For them we conquer; for the holy Drones
Batten upon the Harvest of our Toil,
And laugh to see our Labour!—fain I'd learn,
Which was their Hour of Danger; or the Time
When to themselves they prophesy'd of Ill!
But this is not enough! they now become
Our private Guides, and rule our inmost Souls!
Influence every Circumstance of Life!
Our Reason; nay, our very Passions too
They wou'd inslave! and we must love, and hate
At their Direction!—Insolence, and Craft!

Ammon.
Delays have vext thee! I'll engage, at least,
For Tryphon's Faith!

Omphales.

[Exeunt.